He scares the other children
by Possum132
Summary: A look at the orphanage scene from HBP, from the perspectives of Albus Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, and one of those sorely neglected Muggles.
1. Mrs Cole

**He scares the other children**

_No more Snape-centric fics from me, but I have long wanted to time-travel back to the 1930s and take a look at how Albus mishandled his first encounter with the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time – and when fandoms collide, it is a sweet, sweet moment._

**Chapter 1: Mrs Cole**

She'd been so busy, what with the chicken pox on top of everything else, that she'd forgotten that the gentleman would be calling today, about Tom Riddle, and she'd been quite amazed at the sight of him - a very Bohemian-looking gentleman, in a plum velvet suit, with a mass of long auburn hair and a beard; he looked like an artist or a poet.

He'd held out his hand to her, introduced himself, but she hadn't quite caught the name, Albert Dumberton or something like that – and then she'd remembered the letter, and that had been a bit odd, too, addressed in purple ink and an awful lot of stamps on the envelope.

She's shown him into her office, eyed him cautiously, and asked whether he was family – because if he was family, it was a bit rich, him showing up now, eleven years after Tom was born ...

He'd said he was a teacher, at some school called Hogwarts, but how come he was interested in Tom? Tom couldn't have won a scholarship – because she'd certainly never entered him for one.

The man had said that Tom's name had been down at the school since birth, and she'd been interested immediately, because whoever registered him must be a relative - and if there _was_ a family, they could jolly well take Tom off her hands!

And then the gentleman had showed her the piece of paper, and that made it all clear, Hogwarts was a school for the gifted, and Tom Riddle is certainly gifted ... and somehow there was a bottle of gin on the table and two glasses, and while normally she wouldn't dream of taking a drink during work hours, it was only politeness to offer refreshment to her guest.

She'd smiled at him, because everything was perfectly in order, and Tom would be going off to a school that would be just right for him, and the paper had said something about a fund, so she didn't even have to worry about finding the money for books and uniforms ...

The gentleman had asked her whether Tom was born in the orphanage, so she'd poured another drink and told him the story – how could she forget it? New Year's Eve, bitter cold, and that poor girl staggering up the front steps ... they'd had to deliver the baby themselves, they couldn't get a doctor, not at that hour of the night – lucky the old matron had a lot of experience and was something of a midwife, but the mother had died, nothing seemed to have gone terribly wrong but the poor girl just didn't seem to have any will to keep going after Tom was safely born.

Then the gentleman had asked about Tom's father, and she'd told him what Tom's mother had said, "I hope he looks like his papa," and the girl was right to hope it, too, because she was no beauty - and _that_ was being kind. Well, her son is handsome enough - but handsome is as handsome does ...

And the girl had insisted that her baby be called Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for _her _father – funny name, they'd wondered if she came from a circus, funny name like that, and that funny old fashioned dress she was wearing, a sort of long robe, the kind of thing women wore in the last century ...

The poor girl had said that the baby's surname was to be Riddle, _Mrs_ Riddle, she'd called herself, but there was no wedding band on her finger - and then she'd thought, _we don't want to speak ill of the dead _...

She'd helped herself to another measure of gin, and then it had come out, "He's a funny boy," and the gentleman didn't seem surprised. She'd nearly said more, but she'd pulled herself up, she didn't like Tom, and God knows she'd be glad to be rid of him - best she didn't say anything more ...

But the gentleman really seemed interested, and he'd assured her that Tom had a place at his school, whatever she said - so she'd decided that she should tell him. He was a teacher there, he had a right to know, and maybe it wouldn't be a problem at his school, maybe they'd be able to manage Tom - so she'd said, in a rush, "He scares the other children." And she'd thought, _and he scares the staff, I know Martha for one is afraid of him ..._

He'd asked whether Tom was a bully, and she'd frowned, Tom is tall for his age, but he never gets into fights, he never pushes the smaller children around - but there have been all those nasty incidents ... the business with the rabbit, for a start.

She'd taken another gulp of gin, and she'd known that her face had started to glow, Tom _said_ he didn't strangle Billy Stubb's rabbit, and how could he have got up into the rafters anyway? But he'd quarrelled with Billy the day before, Billy had called Tom a freak, and nasty things seem to happen to people who quarrel with Tom ... and then there's that other business, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, they'd both started wetting the bed and crying at night after that outing to the seaside, but they won't talk about whatever it was that Tom did to them in the cave.

And then she'd looked the gentleman squarely in the eye, and it hadn't been the gin talking when she said, "I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him."

The gentleman had explained that Tom would have to come back to them, at least every summer, and she'd thought, _at least that's something_, and now she's ushering him into Tom's room, and telling Tom that he's got a vistor, Mr Dumberton, no, Dunderbore, and it's probably easiest if the gentleman tells him the good news about his scholarship to Hogwarts.


	2. Albus Dumbledore

**He scares the other children**

**Chapter 2: Albus Dumbledore**

He'd knocked on the front door of that rather grim, square building, wondering what sort of boy Tom Riddle would turn out to be, and while he'd never heard of a wizard family by that name, _someone_ had sent an owl to put his name down for Hogwarts on the 31st of December,1926, so the boy must be at least a half-blood. The mother might have been a witch who'd married a Muggle and taken his name, but why hadn't she come to St Mungo's when her child was ready to be born? And then he'd thought of how often mixed marriages don't work out, frequently a Muggle will abandon a wife who is a witch – and the half-bloods sometimes hate the Muggles even more than the pure-bloods do, that fellow Grindelwald who is causing such trouble amongst the Muggles on the Continent is a half-blood. Grindelwald is whipping the Muggles up to fight, not that anyone in the Ministry seems to understand or to care what it will mean if the Muggles tear their world apart again – the Muggles have powerful weapons now, they have the capacity to kill themselves by the millions now - and it seems only yesterday that the Muggles had fought their last terrible war, the War to End All Wars, because when you've lived ninety years, a mere twenty seem to pass in a moment ...

Then he'd pushed the thought away, because he has other business at the moment, and a scruffy, bewildered looking girl in an apron had let him in – he'd noticed that the place was shabby, but spotlessly clean, and the matron looked more anxious than unkind – it appeared that he'd come at a bad time, because they had the chicken pox in the place, which seemed to be a milder version of dragon pox ...

He'd held out his hand to Mrs Cole, and reminded her of the letter he'd sent, she'd shown him into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office, and asked him whether he was family. He'd explained that he was a teacher, and that Tom had the qualities Hogwarts looked for in students, but Mrs Cole was an inconveniently sharp woman, she'd wanted to know how Tom's name had been put down for the school, and he'd thought it advisable to use an enchantment, a harmless one, one that wouldn't affect her memory - what a Muggle saw written on the blank piece of paper was whatever he or she needed to see. And he'd thought that a bottle of gin might be welcome, too, so he'd surreptitiously flicked his wand again, and Mrs Cole had asked him, in a very lady-like voice, whether she could offer him a glass of gin.

He'd accepted, and Mrs Cole had wasted no time in pouring two generous measures – and she'd smiled at him, he'd seen in her eyes that she was relieved that Tom would be off her hands, and he'd pressed his advantage. He'd asked whether she could tell him anything of the boy's history, and Mrs Cole had helped herself to more gin, and settled back to tell him the story – and it was a dramatic, tragic story, the poor girl staggering up the stairs in the snow – and then she'd died, leaving her newborn son alone in the world.

He'd asked whether anything was known about the father, and Mrs Cole had told him that the mother had insisted that her baby was to be named Tom Marvolo Riddle, and he'd wondered if Riddle was the mother's name, because Mrs Cole didn't seem to be sure that she'd been married to the father – and the most likely explanation was that the mother was some poor Muggle girl, deceived and betrayed by a wizard, who'd had only the bare decency to put his son's name down for Hogwarts ...

Mrs Cole had poured herself another gin, she'd flushed slightly, and then she'd said, "He's a funny boy."

He hadn't been surprised, but he'd been a little bit alarmed – there was something that Mrs Cole wasn't telling him, something unpleasant ... and there was nothing blurry or vague about the inquisitorial glance she'd shot at him, despite the level of the gin in the bottle having sunk to about a third. He'd assured her that there was nothing that she could say that would affect Tom's place at Hogwarts – she'd decided that she could trust him, and she'd said, in a sudden rush, "He scares the other children."

He'd thought, magical children often do scare the Muggles, their magic is uncontrolled – and sometimes there are accidents, particularly if the child is frightened - so he'd asked her, though he'd known it wasn't as simple as that, "You mean he is a bully?"

Mrs Cole had frowned, and she'd said there'd been incidents, nasty things ... a rabbit had been strangled, and that was troubling. But it seemed there'd been worse, two young Muggles had been terrorized in some way - and he'd known that it wasn't the gin talking when Mrs Cole had looked steadily into his eyes and said, "I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him."

Still, he had to see the boy for himself, sometimes a magical child will be tormented relentlessly by the Muggles, and he or she lash out – and they don't know their own power ... so he'd followed Mrs Cole up a couple of flights of stairs to the first door in a long corridor. Mrs Cole had shown him in, and he'd found a small bare room, with nothing it except an old wardrobe, a chair, and an iron bedstead. A handsome, dark-haired boy was sitting on top of the grey blankets, his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book, which he'd quickly put away when the adults entered the room.

He'd walked forward and held out his hand, Tom had hesitated before he shook it, for some reason the boy seemed wary of him, and it wasn't because of his velvet suit or his long hair ...

He'd drawn up the hard wooden chair next to the bed, explained that he was Professor Dumbledore – but the boy seemed to think that he was a Muggle Healer, called in by the matron to have a look at him, and Tom had refused to believe him when he'd denied it – he'd demanded "Tell the truth!"

He'd thought, the boy is a natural Legilimens, I can hardly believe that he doesn't know the spell ... but it hadn't been hard to block the boy's intrusion into his mind, and he'd explained, again, "My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts, and I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come."

He'd been taken aback by the boy's reaction, Tom had leapt off the bed and backed away, looking furious, he'd said, "The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it?" And then he'd said that he'd never done anything to Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, but that was a lie, something thoroughly unpleasant had happened in that cave.

He'd explained, patiently, again, that he wasn't from the asylum – and if Tom really didn't want to come to Hogwarts, nobody will force him - and he'd ignored Tom's sneering and his childish threat, "I'd like to see them try," the boy was frightened, the boy was afraid that people thought he was insane ...

He'd said, "Hogwarts is a school for people with special abilities - ", Tom had interrupted, "I'm not mad!", and he'd decided that it was time to be completely open with the boy, he'd said, "I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

And that had got through to Tom, Tom had understood the word magic at once. He'd asked, "It's ... it's magic, what I can do?"

He'd asked, "What is it that you can do?" – and Tom had looked feverish with excitement and told him, "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

He'd watched while Tom stumbled to the bed and sat down on it, and he'd been worried. Moving things, influencing animals – lots of young wizards and witches experiment with their magic in that way – but deliberately hurting people, punishing people ... that wasn't good, and it will have to stop, that sort of thing won't be allowed at Hogwarts.

Tom had whispered to himself something about being different, special, and he'd told Tom that he was quite right – he was a wizard - and Tom had looked overjoyed at the news, but the joy on his face had not been a pleasant sight, there'd been something rough, even bestial about his handsome face.

Tom had asked him if he was a wizard too, and then Tom had demanded that he prove it, and the commanding tone the boy had used had been another reason to feel uneasy, because there's a spell to make people do what you want, and it's a very Dark spell indeed.

He'd realized that he needed to make Tom understand that he was speaking to one of his teachers, and Tom needed to understand, too, that talented though he was, he had a lot to learn about magic, it's not for playing tricks on Muggles, it's an awesome power – and a great responsibility.

And Tom had asked him again, very politely, to show him magic – so he'd taken his wand from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and shown him how magic should _not_ be used; he'd pointed his wand at the wardrobe in the corner and caused it to burst into flames. Tom had howled in shock and rage, and he'd immediately stopped the flames, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged. But when Tom had rounded on him, he'd seen something really nasty in Tom's eyes – Tom has some things he shouldn't have in that wardrobe, and he can't ignore that.

Tom had pointed at his wand, a greedy expression on his face – Tom is certainly a clever boy, he'd realized straightaway that a wand channels and controls magical power – and asked where he could get one, but he'd said, "All in good time," because the little toys that Tom had taken from the other children are trying to get out of the wardrobe.

Tom had looked afraid, the childish arrogance had vanished now, and he'd asked Tom, "Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?"

Tom had hesitated, he'd really hoped that the boy would be sensible, would own up to his misbehaviour and avoid further humiliation – and finally Tom had admitted it, said, "Yes, I suppose so, sir", and tipped the contents of the box out on the bed, a mess of small, everyday objects; a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished mouth-organ amongst them. Worthless little trinkets, really, unless you know what they mean to the children they belong to - pauper children in a Muggle orphanage where they struggle just to feed and clothe them ...

Then he'd thought, this is enough – it's enough if Tom gives the things back and apologises, and the boy must be warned, thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts, and neither are the nasty little tricks that he's played on the Muggles. So he'd told Tom that at Hogwarts he'll be taught to control his magic, and there are punishments for those who break the wizarding laws, expulsion from Hogwarts, and the Ministry of Magic will punish law-breakers even more severely - though he hadn't gone into details, he wasn't going to terrorise an eleven year old boy with threats of Azkaban. And Tom seemed to understand, though it was difficult to see what the boy was really thinking, because by Merlin's beard, the boy is a natural Occlumens ...

Tom had put the little objects away in the cardboard box and then Tom had come straight to the point and said that he didn't have any money, but that wasn't a problem because he'd brought a leather money-pouch full of Galleons with him – and the boy had been eager to find out where you could buy spellbooks, and to handle the fat gold coins.

He'd suggested that he could accompany Tom to Diagon Alley, but the boy had refused the offer and he hadn't insisted, Tom was clearly self-sufficient and he'd be able to manage on his own ... so he'd explained how to get to the Leaky Cauldron, told him to ask for Tom the barman, easy enough to remember as they share a name - and that had touched a nerve.

And now the boy is asking the question that he'd been dreading, "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle, too, they've told me."

He thinks, what's worse, a father who's dead, or a father who has abandoned him? And, gently, he tells the simple truth, "I'm afraid I don't know."

But Tom seems convinced that his father was a wizard, he says, half to himself, "My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died. It must've been him."

He's relieved when Tom changes the subject and asks him when he'll be coming to Hogwarts, it's natural for an orphan to be curious about his parents, but it might be better if Tom doesn't dig too deeply into his magical heritage, he might only find out something painful ...

He gets to his feet, holds out his hand to say goodbye, Tom takes it, and then Tom says something surprising, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips - they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"

He realises that the boy is trying to impress him, and despite himself he is impressed, because this is a rare ability indeed ... he keeps his voice casual when he replies, "It is unusual but not unheard of," but his eyes move curiously over Tom 's face, the boy looks nothing like a Gaunt or a Peverell and those families wouldn't have anything to do with Muggles, anyway, but even so he can't help thinking, Tom Riddle is a Parselmouth - could he be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself?


	3. Tom Riddle

**He scares the other children**

**Chapter 3: Tom Riddle**

When Mrs Cole opened the door, he'd hastily put the book away – he didn't want anyone to see what he was reading because ordinary eleven year old boys aren't interested in politics, ordinary eleven year old boys read the adventures of Biggles in the _Modern Boy_ magazine - but he wasn't an ordinary eleven year old boy, was he? And he wanted to know more about that man he'd seen on the newsreels, he couldn't understand a word the man was saying, but he understood that the man wielded power – the power to make millions of people listen to every word he said, and to obey.

He'd known straightaway that there was something odd about the man with Mrs Cole, there was something different about him, and it wasn't just the clothes and the long hair, and he'd been wary. The man had shook hands with him and introduced himself, but all he'd heard was the word "professor", and he'd been alarmed, because that old cat of a matron might have sent for the doctors - the kind of doctors who can get you put in a lunatic asylum.

The man had denied it, but he hadn't believed it, and he'd told the man, "Tell the truth! " - because he can tell when people are lying, and not just kids, adults, too. But it didn't work on this man, he couldn't read the truth in those blue eyes. So he'd asked, "Who are you?"

The man had said, "My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts, and I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come."

He'd leapt up from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, the orphanage was foul but one day he was going to get out of it, and he'd never get out of the asylum if they locked him up in there - but surely they didn't have any proof, Amy Benson and her soppy little friend Dennis would never blab about what happened in the cave, he'd made sure of that - and then Dumbledore had said something more about the school, said that nobody would force him to go if he didn't want to ... and he'd sneered, because nasty things happen to people who try to force him to do things.

But then Dumbledore had said something that he'll never forget, _never_ - Dumbledore had said, "Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

Magic! The word he'd whispered to himself sometimes, the only word that seemed able to explain what he could do. And he had to know, he had to ask, "It's ... it's magic, what I can do?"

Dumbledore had asked him what he could do, so he'd explained, he can make things move without touching them, make animals do what he wants them to do - but he hadn't mentioned the really special thing he can do, the thing with snakes - and he can make people do what he wants, too, even the strong ones ... he can hurt people, and that's the way to get people to do what you want, hurt them, because the people he's hurt don't annoy him any more, they do what he tells them to do.

It had been so exciting to know that he'd been right all along, so thrilling to know that it _was_ magic, that he'd started to tremble, he'd had to sit down on the bed, and he'd said it aloud, "I knew I was different. I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

Dumbledore had told him that there was a word for what he was, and it wasn't freak, it was _wizard_ - and he'd been wildly happy, happier than he'd ever been in his life before. And he'd realised that Dumbledore must be a wizard, too, but he'd wanted proof, he'd wanted to see what Dumbledore could do ... so he'd said, "Prove it", in the voice that makes the little kids and the more dense of the bigger ones do what he wants.

But Dumbledore had merely raised his eyebrows, and asking him if he was accepting his place at Hogwarts, what a stupid question, of course he was accepting! And then Dumbledore had told him to address him as "Professor" or "sir", and he'd resented that, but the man was a wizard, the man knew about magic - and he'd realised that Dumbledore is one of the people he needs to be polite to, one of the people he needs to charm, so he'd asked again, "please, Professor, could you show me - ?"

And Dumbledore had shown him, he'd pulled a stick out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pointed it at the wardrobe - and the wardrobe had burst into flames. He'd yelled in shock and rage because everything he cared about was in that wardrobe, but even as he'd rounded on Dumbledore, the flames had vanished. He'd stared at the stick in Dumbledore's hand, and he hadn't needed to be told that it was a wand and that the power had come from the wand. Well, not from the wand, the power came from the wizard, but the wand channelled, controlled the power, and making a piece of furniture burst into flames was a party trick, it was nothing to what you could do with a wand - if you had the will to use it.

So he'd asked, "Where can I get one of them?", but Dumbledore had said, "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe", and the wardrobe had started to rattle - and he'd been afraid, because how did Dumbledore know about the things he kept in that wardrobe? Things that could get him into trouble, if Dumbledore showed them to Mrs Cole ...

He'd been frightened, and he hadn't wanted to lift the cardboard box down from the topmost shelf, but Dumbledore had a wand, and he didn't, so he'd done as he was told. Dumbledore had asked him if there was anything in the box that he ought not to have - and he'd thought about lying, he'd given Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look, but that wasn't going to work, he'd known that Dumbledore was looking into his mind, there must be a way to stop that, and he would certainly be finding out about that - but for the moment telling the truth was his best option. He'd tipped his trophies out onto the bed without even looking at them, looking at them wasn't a good idea, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from thinking about what each of them meant to him, and that was something he didn't want Dumbledore to know.

Dumbledore had told him to return the things to their owners, with an apology, and then Dumbledore had told him that thieving was not tolerated at Hogwarts - and he'd stared at Dumbledore, did Dumbledore really think he was just some petty thief? As if he wanted a yo-yo, a thimble, a mouth-organ ... worthless little trinkets, unless you knew what they meant. But he'd said, "Yes, sir," because after what Dumbledore had shown him, he didn't doubt that Dumbledore would know whether it had been done.

Then Dumbledore had threatened him, threatened him with expulsion from Hogwarts and with the Ministry of Magic, and he'd struggled to keep his face blank and his thoughts under control, because he'd realised that the wizarding world is just the same as the ordinary world, it's all about power – who has it, and who doesn't - and while Dumbledore had the power, he was going to have to watch his step around Dumbledore ... and he was dying to find out more about the Ministry, too, it must be some kind of wizarding government. If there was a wizard school and a wizard government, maybe there was wizard money, too, and that was a problem, because he didn't have any money, either the wizarding or the ordinary kind.

Dumbledore had produced a leather money-pouch, told him that there was a fund to pay for spellbooks and robes - wizard clothes, obviously - and he'd asked where you buy spellbooks and pulled one of the fat gold coins out of the bag, he'd been right, wizards do have their own money, because the coin was no ordinary sovereign stamped with the head of the King ...

He'd been worried for a minute, Dumbledore had offered to accompany him to Diagon Alley, and that was the last thing he wanted, having an adult - _any_ adult - interfering while he explored the world of magic, but Dumbledore hadn't insisted, Dumbledore had told him how to find the Leaky Cauldron, and Dumbledore had told him that the Muggles wouldn't be able to see it. _Muggles_, that was a good word for non-magical people, and he'd wondered for a moment why wizards had to hide from the Muggles, what could Muggles do against magic?

He'd twitched when Dumbledore told him to ask for Tom the barman, he hated his name, there are a lot of Toms - and it was his father's name, too, or so they said ... and now the question comes bursting out, "Was my father a wizard?", because one of his parents had to be magic, it had to come from somewhere, and it couldn't be his mother, she'd died - and no-one even knew her name. And wizards aren't easy to kill, when they'd climbed down to the cave, he'd slipped – but he hadn't fallen, he'd _flown_. So it couldn't have been his mother, and now he's saying, more to himself than to Dumbledore, "My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died. It must've been him", but he's thinking, _why would a wizard want to be with a stupid, useless Muggle, anyway?_

Dumbledore is telling him there's a train ticket in his envelope - he leaves from King's Cross on the first of September - and for a moment he feels a twinge of apprehension, he's going to Hogwarts with hundred of other students who can all do magic, and perhaps he won't be special and different after all, so he asks, "I can speak to snakes ... Is that normal for a wizard?"

Dumbledore hesitates ... Dumbledore's tone is casual when he replies, "It is unusual but not unheard of," but Dumbledore is looking at him more closely, and it gives him a warm, powerful feeling to know that Professor Dumbledore of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is impressed with his abilities, and maybe even a tiny little bit afraid ...


End file.
